


Cabin Fever

by Canaan



Series: Major Arcana [11]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: AU, BDSM, D/s, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-27
Updated: 2010-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-14 03:50:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canaan/pseuds/Canaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The idea of a Time Lord who never stops moving snowed in is terrifying."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabin Fever

**Author's Note:**

> PWP, and possibly kinkier than I think it is. Beta'd by the long-suffering aibhinn.
> 
> Disclaimer: So very not mine. Not making any money.

"We can make it," the Doctor says, blithely.

Jack shakes his head. "The locals say these storm systems move in lightning-fast, dump all their snow on this side of the mountains, and don't make it out again for a day or two. By the time you see it on the horizon, it's too late."

"We can make it." The statement's more hopeful than assured by now.

"Doctor," Rose says, "If you're sure, then let's go. But . . . 'm awfully cold, and if it gets worse, I'm afraid I'll slow us up. An' if we get caught out in that, by what they were sayin' back there, we'll all be ice lollies."

The Doctor stops in his tracks and looks at her. Jack doesn't smile. He'd like to, even though he doesn't know if Rose is really that cold or if she's giving the Doctor an excuse to do the wise thing instead of the convenient thing. Watching Rose lead a nine-hundred-year-old Time Lord around by the nose always makes Jack want to smile. "Right. Not risking you two, then. Come on--I see cottages down there that all look alike." He rolls his eyes. "Stayin' in a guest cottage when the TARDIS is right over that ridge. Humans. Don't know how you get me into these fixes . . . "

Rose smiles, weakly. "Jeopardy-friendly, remember?"

***

  
By the time they find the rental office, they're only the most recent in a long line of visitors trying to take shelter before the storm hits. Rose takes one look at the little market attached to the rental office and says, "Right. You lot get us a place--I'll go buy some food while there's some still left on the shelves. Looks like we could be here a while."

"You lot" means Jack. The Doctor's grumpy because he's not getting his way, and he's not helpful when Jack tries to get them the best of the remaining guest houses. There are two, one with two small bedrooms and one with a single bedroom and a small reading room. The idea of a Time Lord who never stops moving snowed in is terrifying. Jack wants the one with a reading room, hoping there'll be something in it capable of distracting a restless Doctor.

"Oh, but there's only the one bed!" the innkeep says. "Surely you won't want anyone left sleeping on the floor."

"We like the floor," Jack says, cheerfully. "Some of our best moments have been on the floor. Can we have the key, please?" He's tempted to mention the shower, the sofa, and the TARDIS's kitchen table, but what he wants most right now is a key before the Doctor changes his mind.

The innkeeper does a double-take, but takes a very old-fashioned mechanical key off a hook and hands it over in exchange for the named sum of local currency, just as Rose joins them with a box of food that'll probably last a few days. The Doctor takes it from her as Jack leads the way toward their rental. He peers at the contents, which run highly to quick foods and snacks. "Do you know what's in some of this stuff?" he wonders.

Rose makes a face. "It was what they had. Not lookin' for a chemistry lesson, thanks."

The sky's a truly ominous color and the snow's coming down in small-but-significant flurries by the time they approach a run-down little cottage. Jack opens it with a key and they step into a common room that runs smack into a kitchen. The Doctor puts the box down on the countertop. "It's a house," he says, bleakly.

Jack opens a door off the back of the common room. "With a small library." He scans the shelves. "Containing books I, at least, haven't read."

"It's a _house_ ," the Doctor repeated.

"Come on," Rose says, determinedly cheerful. "We've stayed in much worse places."

"Yeah, but caves are exciting. Tree houses have charm. Open fields smell of adventure . . . "

"And cow pies," Jack put in.

" . . . and with jails, you don't have any choice. This . . . this is a _house_!"

"Let's see what's upstairs," Rose says, taking the Doctor's hand and dragging him toward the staircase. Jack follows, caught between amusement and annoyance at the Doctor's dismay.

The carpet's worn, but clean. The stairs open out into a room with a bed and an attached bath. True to warning, the bed's more suited to two than three. _Well, we're friendly, and the Doctor probably won't do any sleeping in it anyway_ , Jack thinks.

Rose grins and sits on the edge of the bed, releasing the purloined hand. "The house has a bed," she says, catching her tongue between her teeth in that way that never fails to grab her partners' attention. "Should we test it out?"

***

  
The following morning, the snow's still falling, the drifts are so high the first floor is buried and the second's nearly so, and the Doctor's read half of the library and all of the labels on the food from the little shop. Rose and Jack have a long lie-in and a leisurely shower, and if the food comes out of bags and tins and isn't exciting, at least they aren't hungry.

Early in the afternoon, the Doctor springs to his feet suddenly enough to alarm his partners. "The snow's stopped," he declares.

Jack doesn't ask how he can tell. "And?"

"We should start digging out."

Rose puts her book down and looks at him like he's daft--not an expression Jack's often seen her aim at their partner. "Have you seen how deep the snow is, out there?"

"Well, we don't have to dig all the way back to the TARDIS. Just as far as the road--I'm sure they'll be clearing the roads."

Jack's lounging against the arm of the sofa. Rose sits up straight on the cushion beside him. "Doctor," Jack said, "We won't get back to the TARDIS any faster by ourselves than by waiting for the people who get _paid_ to clear the roads and paths. And we'll be warmer, here."

The Doctor brushes that off. "Humans. Don't worry, cold doesn't bother me--I'll come up with something and then we can all make it work. Snow shoes, maybe, if we can just tunnel out far enough to reach the surface. Do you think it'd be much of a mess if we started from the second floor? Not as far to go, but the snow's less packed, guess a fair bit'd get inside when we opened a window . . . "

Rose gets to her feet and crosses her arms. Jack rolls his eyes, unimpressed by the ravings of a snow-bound Time Lord. "You do that," he says. "Eventually, they'll clear the snow without any help from us at all. In the meantime, Rose and I have very important business." He snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her in close to his body.

The Doctor stiffens a little, in spite of himself. Rose looks up at Jack. "What business?"

He grins down at her. "The business of further corrupting Rose Tyler."

The Doctor blinks. Rose blushes, faintly. "Oh yeah, that business," she says, blandly.

"Of course," Jack points out, "an extra pair of hands never hurts. But I forgot--" he looks steadily at the Doctor, "you're too busy trying to dig us out of here."

The Doctor flashes a grin at him. "What, you tellin' me you need the help?"

***

  
Rose's shirt is off before they ever close the bedroom door. The snow's past the windows even here, but the chill from it doesn't make a dent in the heat that can't escape the house. Jack wraps himself around her, warm fingers probing at sensitive skin. She sighs and nibbles his earlobe. "So," she murmurs, her voice husky, "were you serious about corrupting me? Or are we just playing 'distract the Time Lord'?"

Jack grins and captures her mouth in a kiss. She lets her lips part under his, and he deepens it and lets it linger. By the time he lets her up for air, she's already naked to the waist and he's got her trousers undone, and she's not quite sure when either happened. "Both?" he suggests, hopefully. She laughs and plants her hands firmly on his bum, pulling his hips tight against her body. He's hard against her belly--no surprise--and he kisses his way down her throat. "Though if I'm really going to find new ways to corrupt you, you're going to have to be a little more patient."

He encourages her like this and then wants patient? "Been hanging around with you and the Doctor." Her voice is breathy in her own ears. He licks his way along her collarbone, and she finds herself gasping a little. "Exactly how much more corrupted do you think I can get?"

Below them, the door slams. Rose winces. "Why Rose, that sounds like a challenge." Jack breathes the words against her skin, and she shivers: Jack's every bit as creative as his tales about his escapades have always suggested. When she doesn't argue, he says, "Just remember--when he comes back in, be as loud as possible."

Rose blushes and nods.

***

  
The Doctor brushes a truly profound amount of snow onto the floor. Nothing he can do with a camp shovel and a sonic screwdriver is going to result in a useful tunnel. He might as well make some tea while he thinks of something else.

He's got his hand on the kettle when he hears the first moan. Rose is . . . really quite loud if he can hear her from the kitchen. He suppresses the production of a couple of key hormones and fills the kettle. The moans don't decrease--if anything, they get louder and breathier. The old-fashioned kettle's on the depressingly mundane cooker and the snow in his hair is just beginning to melt when the moans give way to a drawn-out scream that's definitely not pain. It's followed by a couple of shorter ones. Humans--no control of themselves.

The Doctor puts a tea bag in a cup and leans back against the counter of the kitchenette. Rose is screaming again. Such primitive biological systems. He damps down his hormone production again and grins, in spite of himself. Of course, it does make them fun to play with, sometimes.

You'd think, though, that his partners could take this situation a little more seriously. Sure, they're not in any danger, but they could be trapped here for days when there are so many other things to do and explore if they can just get back to the TARDIS. Genius, here, and three sets of hands--surely they can manage _something_ . . .

Rose just keeps coming and coming. He approves of that, as a general rule, but it's distracting right now, and the kettle seems to be taking an awfully long time to boil. He checks the heating element with his screwdriver and frowns. Come to that, the ambient heat in the room still hasn't melted all the snow off his boots. His time sense indicates the feeling that she's going on forever is purely subjective. He pulls his boots off and leaves them by the door.

Rose gasps and groans with an orgasm that sounds almost beyond bearing. The Doctor's starting to wonder if she'll be walking, later. Then it dawns on him that he's not hearing Jack. Jack, who's so expressive during sex that he makes noise just watching his partners.

The Doctor hasn't been able to focus on a plan since he came in from the snow. His hormones are stubbornly refusing to stay where he means them to be, his lovers are having a much better time than he is, and _Jack is winding him up_. Rose screams again. What in Time is the man _doing_ to her?

He's lucky he remembers to turn the cooker off.

***

Rose Tyler, naked and spread across a bed and flushed with pleasure, is always a glorious sight. The tableau that greets him now is almost . . . indescribable. Jack's naked too, and lounging between her legs with his left hand braced on her hip. The lower half of his face shines slickly in a way that explains some of the noises Rose has been making. Hs right hand's inside her to the thumb, and the look in his eyes is cat-with-cream as he meets the Doctor's gaze. There's devilment in it that seems to say, _Took you long enough, Time Lord_.

Jack . . . flexes his hand, to judge by the play of muscles in his forearm, and Rose screams pleasure. It's beautiful to watch and somehow disconcerting. _How . . . did you talk her into that?_ the Doctor wonders, his trousers distinctly too tight.

Jack licks some of Rose's juices off his lips. The Doctor swallows. One orgasm at a time, on a guess. As Rose's body stills, Jack places a tender kiss just above the soft curls where her legs meet. Her belly flutters under his touch and her lips part, but no words emerge. She might well be beyond words, just now. Jack watches her carefully, unmistakably turned on, but patient. At some moment he likes for it, he draws his hand out just a little, groups his thumb with his fingers, and presses gently back into her.

Rose is so unstrung with pleasure, her body is lax and unresisting. She shivers and moans loudly as Jack moves his hand in her. The Doctor's eyes are glued to her face as an orgasm seems to surprise her. Her unseeing eyes fly open and another cry is wrenched, helplessly, from her throat. Jack continues to work his hand inside her, but the next time she goes over the edge it's almost too much: That's still pleasure on her face, but she's suddenly silent and her eyes are dull. "Jack," the Doctor whispers, his voice unexpectedly hoarse to his own ears.

"I know," Jack murmurs, drawing his hand slowly, gently, out of her body. She makes a few soft sounds, but doesn't twitch. He rolls to the side of her, stretches up along the length of her body, and brushes her lips with his. She blinks. "Love you, beautiful," he murmurs. She doesn't move, but her lips smile, faintly. The Doctor can't help but smile at these beloved humans.

Jack draws his hand to his lips and licks the palm in long strokes. The Doctor's eyes fix on his tongue, and Jack knows it. He sits up and sucks his thumb clean, his eyes on the Doctor's face. "Sorry you missed the party, Doc," the human says. His eyes sparkle with wicked humor and smolder with lust and challenge. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, one by one.

From Jack's point of view, he's won, but his body's still clearly wanting. Jack's been pushing his luck and running his mouth all afternoon, and he's going to get exactly what he's been asking for. The Doctor releases the little bit of hold he's retained on his hormones. "Did I?" he asks, darkly, letting a slow smile spread across his face.

He watches Jack's breath catch in his throat. The human says, "Doctor, if you ask my permission, I'm gonna be very disappointed." He runs his tongue provocatively over the back of his own hand.

"Hadn't planned on it." Thoughtfully, the Doctor concentrates on a couple of key hormones. This time, he _increases_ their production.

***

  
The look in the Doctor's eyes takes Jack's breath away and leaves him dizzy with lust. He continues licking the taste of Rose off his hand, but his eyes are on the Doctor's. His lover says, "Seems to me the bed is in use. Stand up, Jack."

Jack doesn't know where this is going, but he's got the Doctor's full attention, and wow, does he want to be along for the ride. He slides to the foot of the too-small bed and does as he's told. "Drop your hand," the Doctor tells him, and when he does, the Doctor circles him, looking him up and down.

Jack finds himself flushing under the weight of the other man's inspection. He can feel his pulse throbbing in his throat and his eyes fall closed. He yelps and his eyes fly open as the Doctor puts the full length of an icy body along his back from calf to neck. His reflexive attempt to jerk away is thwarted by a hand on his shoulder and another on his hip, both of them more than human-strong. "Time Lord," the Doctor whispers into his ear, his voice harsh with desire. "Snow bank. Basic thermodynamics, Captain, and you should have thought of that before you started baiting me." Jack shivers, and not because of the cold. The force of his lover's hands and the note in his voice have Jack painfully hard.

"Sorry?" Jack breathes. He's not, not even when the Doctor's hand slides down his shoulder to his chest and moves in freezing circles over it.

"Sorry what?" his partner prompts.

It's a question with only one right answer, and it pushes all of Jack's buttons. Oh yeah, there's no blood left anywhere _near_ his brain. "Sorry, Doctor."

"Good lad," the Doctor says. He draws the hand on Jack's chest up to stroke a thumb over the big artery below the jaw. Jack can't quite smother a moan. "Now . . . think it's in your best interests to see me warmed up, hmm?"

"Yes, Doctor." That fierce grip loosens. Jack pulls away just enough to lose skin contact and turns in the Doctor's arms. He opens his eyes to meet a gaze that's warmer than any other part of the Time Lord. He slides the Doctor's jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor. Since he really doesn't want to expose the front half of his body to that way-more-than-chill, he keeps a careful few centimeters' distance as he unfastens and unzips the Doctor's trousers.

He starts to kiss his way down the other man's body, looking up from under half-lidded eyes to where patience and lust war on the Doctor's face. He's not sure there's a victor, but the Doctor twines fingers in Jack's hair and presses his head down. Jack kneels on the slightly-shabby carpet. He eases the Doctor's pants out of the way and licks a long line up the underside of a very erect cock, Rose's quip about ice lollies flitting through his mind.

The Doctor hisses softly as Jack takes him into his mouth. A crack about thermodynamics pops into his head, but a glance at his partner's face makes it dry up in Jack's throat. He plays his tongue lovingly over the Doctor's skin, savouring the way his lover's hips buck and the fingers that tighten in his hair.

The Doctor is, in fact, warmer by the time he hauls Jack's head away. Jack waits on his knees in a peaceful, almost timeless state he can never seem to explain to Rose, as the Doctor crosses the room. Their lover hauls the bureau a little distance from the wall with an ease that makes Jack's cock twitch and wrings a little whimper from his throat. "Hand me your trousers, Captain," he directs, resting one hip against the bureau.

Jack crawls the couple paces to where his trousers ended up, near the bed. It vaguely registers that Rose has managed to roll up on one elbow and is watching him. He picks the garment up and offers it, still on his knees, to the Doctor.

The Doctor riffles through the pockets and comes up with a tube. He weighs it in his hand, considering, and then passes the lube to Jack, tossing the trousers aside. "You do the honors, Captain. You started this." His voice is mild, but there's nothing gentle in it.

Jack shudders with desire and something more primitive. He uncaps the tube and slicks his fingers. There's more force to the Doctor than he's ever felt inside a bedroom, and he wants to feel it all when the Doctor shags him. He's trying for just barely enough stretch. He offers the tube back and he waits, eyes downcast and looking mostly at the Doctor's feet.

"That'll do," the Doctor says. "Up you go, Jack."

Jack stands, slowly. The Doctor straightens up and grasps him by the hips, guiding him to face the bureau and bending him over it. Jack moans. His eyes close and he rests his cheek against the scarred wood surface. It feels like ages before the Doctor's pressed against him. It's instinct to push back, to try to bring their coupling on, but the Doctor's got a good grip on his hips and responds by shoving him harder into the bureau. It's pressure and pain and pleasure to have his cock trapped there, and not quite enough of any of those three.

The Doctor pushes into him gradually, but there's nothing gentle about this, either. Jack gasps and whimpers and moans and then the Doctor's inside him, all the way in, and just waiting, like he's got all the time in the world. "Doctor," Jack whispers, pleading. His lover pulls almost all the way out, and then slams back into him.

It's fierce and good and dancing on that line between pain and pleasure as the Doctor tries to shag Jack through the bureau. Jack hangs onto it, his knees almost useless, lost to sensation. He only notices the Doctor has come when he goes still inside Jack's body. Jack's wretched and wanting--he can't move with his lover's weight against him and as good as this is, it's not quite enough to come.

When the Doctor shifts a little, Jack tries to move. The other man keeps his hips pinned. The Doctor pulls back again . . . and thrusts teasingly back into Jack with a still-hard cock.

Tears form at the corners of Jack's closed eyes and he's too turned on for words. The Doctor murmurs, "Oh no, Captain, I'm not done with you, yet. Goin' to be a long afternoon, after all."

Distantly, Jack hears Rose giggle. "Yes, Doctor," he says.

***

  
Rose thinks, vaguely, that she ought to do something on Jack's behalf, but she's really not sure what. There are tears running down his face and it seems like he's been begging for a long time, but he's still in that other place he goes, the one where he likes being helpless and wretched. Or at least, that's what he's always told her, after.

Just as well, really. She's got as far as her side, which lets her watch them, but moving any further just seems like too much effort. On the other hand, Jack was very careful with her--she's not sore at all, just all her limbs seem to have gone to water. And she had no idea the Doctor could keep going like that, though it makes some sense, what with respiratory bypass and testing weird foods for them because he can filter poisons and the like. So it's good, she thinks, that she feels so fantastic. Because they might still be snowed in tomorrow.

***

  
Rose concentrates on putting one foot in front of another. "This hill didn't seem quite so high coming down it."

From the top of the ridge, the Doctor calls down, "What's taking so long? Been doing nothing but lying about for three days, you!"

"Lying about," Jack groans.

Rose makes a face. "I don't know if he thinks he's funny," she agrees, "or if he actually isn't thinking about it. Easy to distract, our Doctor." She's sore in a really good way, but it makes walking harder, and she doesn't even want to think about having to run. Jack's the same, she knows--she's been watching him limp around since yesterday. "And he's goin' to want to be off somewhere else, soon as we get back to the TARDIS."

Jack glares up the ridge, a small smile playing across his lips. He shouts up to the Doctor, "Take it easy, Doctor! Not all of us have your stamina."


End file.
